Clear
by Slivering
Summary: When Fuji Syusuke moves to Japan, he falls in love with a blind boy named Echizen Ryoma. However, Fuji's past threatens to tear them apart.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't know how Fuji has cologne when he's technically quite poor. Pretend he got a free sample from the plane or something.**

…

Clear

Chapter 1

…

"I quit."

Fuji Syusuke tore the gun out of his pocket, slapped it onto the desk, and met Yukimura's eyes. He saw the disbelief and the heavy denial in Yukimura's face. But he was done with all of it. He was done with the stealing, the thievery, the killing. His stomach weighed heavily by the pictures of the innocent people he had destroyed. Sure, he'd only been trying to survive, but still…

"I quit," Fuji repeated, firmly. He wiped a gloved hand over his forehead. Then, thoughtful, he ripped the glove off too.

"You're not serious." Yukimura's eyes danced under the hot sun. The other members of the group just kind of looked at them, half-interested, half-uncaring. "Where are you going to go? You don't even have any money, aside from the little we stole last week. And…" he shook his head, and grasped Fuji's arm tightly. "You can't go, Fuji."

"I can." Fuji sounded pained. "I love you Yukimura. You've been a friend that's as close as a brother. We've supported each other since childhood. But I can't do this anymore."

"Is that all I am?" Yukimura bitterly picked up Fuji's gun, wiping away a fleck of dust. "A close friend?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean…"

"Of course you don't." Yukimura's voice was sharp, like a dagger. "Leave. God knows where you'll end up."

It hurt – the words. But Fuji knew he deserved them. They had been together – stuck like glue – since they were young children. And now, without warning, Fuji had decided to leave. But he knew this was the right decision. He'd spent too long, stuck in the aching cycle of crime that he'd been brought up into.

Of course, Yukimura and him had just been two stumbling toddlers, lost from their parents at the time…

They'd been welcomed into the gang, taught things they thought they were supposed to know. Even as they grew older and realized that what they were doing was wrong, it had already become a part of them, a means of survival. Stealing bread, money – and shooting anyone who tried to stop them. It had been a way of life.

Yukimura took Fuji's gun, and let it drop into the garbage bin.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and his voice was full of sorrow.

Not anymore. Fuji shut his eyes. Never again.

"Yes." He turned on his heel, and gave Yukimura one last nod. "I'm sure."

…..

Using the little money he had left, Fuji booked a flight from America to Japan. He just wanted to free himself from the treachery he'd been a part of. He wanted to forget. He wanted to walk under cherry blossom trees, maybe meet a nice partner… and live a normal life.

The warm spring breeze of Japan greeted him as he stepped outside the airport. He saw families rushing to greet each other, hugging and squealing. He didn't have a family – no parents, no siblings. He honestly didn't even remember how he'd come on the earth. But he had himself, and he figured he could work with that.

First, Fuji mused to himself as he walked out into the parking lot, he would have to get a job. And some money.

Maybe if he worked as a cashier, and lived in a really cheap apartment…

Fuji mentally added up the costs.

He could probably manage a few months like that…

But…

Clothes?

Food?

Fuji gnawed on his lower lip. Oh, well. He would figure things out. He was usually pretty good at that.

"Ow!"

His attention zapped to a small boy in front of him, who had headfirst bumped into the rear end of a car in the parking lot.

Amused, Fuji watched the boy rub his forehead and swear profusely.

"Keep your head up," Fuji said lightly. "Or you'll end up in an accident one day."

The boy's head whipped toward Fuji. "What?" he glared, daringly.

Oops…why was he provoking strangers, now? Still, Fuji had this irresistible urge to match the sour words with his own. "You walked straight into the back of a car," he said. "You should pay better attention to your surroundings."

"Who are you?" The boy continued to glower.

Fuji took this moment to give the kid an once-over. An over-sized sweater and shorts covered a lean, athletic body. Thick, unruly dark hair poked out from under a Fila cap. He was small, probably a couple years younger than Fuji. But out of all of that… Fuji couldn't help but notice his eyes. Unfocused, he thought, but a gorgeous colour.

Was gold even a possible eye colour? Maybe a different shade of hazel…no, they were definitely gold.

"Are you still there?" the boy snapped.

"Am I still…" Fuji trailed off, and shifted his bag. "Well, yes. But…"

"So, who are you?"

Ignoring the previously strange question, Fuji allowed himself to smile fully. Breaking out of the gang was definitely a good thing. No one here knew him. Nobody knew he was a killer, a thief. Here, he was new, and fresh, and…

"I'm Fuji Syusuke," he beamed. "And you?"

The boy tugged his cap down. "Echizen Ryoma."

So he had a name now. Echizen Ryoma. Fuji had an urge to snap a picture of him, but remembered he didn't have a camera. He'd thrown his stolen one. He'd thrown away everything he'd stolen, aside from the money he'd needed to get to Japan. In fact, Fuji was pretty sure he had no money right now. He checked his pockets.

Oh. A quarter and two dimes. Not bad.

"Aren't you a little young to be by yourself in an airport parking lot?" Fuji asked.

Ryoma lifted his chin. "My dad's just going to the bathroom inside. He said to wait here."

Fuji didn't say anything, however. He was thrown off by the way Ryoma acted. He never directly looked at Fuji. His gaze was always off, a few spaces behind or beside him. They never made eye contact, despite that he seemed like a confident guy. Fuji studied him, trying to meet his eyes, wondering if… – _Are you still there?_ – the words flashed, and Fuji sucked in his breath.

Was the kid…

He bumped into the car. Is he…

"Are you blind?" Fuji said softly, shocked.

Ryoma's back stiffened like a plank of wood. "Isn't it obvious?"

It was obvious, now that Fuji knew. He never even seemed to look where he was looking. And yet, Fuji still couldn't help the shock that threaded away at his heart. There he was, a perfectly innocent kid, blind at such a young age? Wasn't life hard without having his vision? Fuji swallowed, and stared at the colorful cars and trees.

He couldn't see any of this? Was he blind from birth? Or had there been an accident?

Questions milled his head. He knew of blind people. But no one so young. And it was odd, because Fuji couldn't help but think if it were him…

Here he was, complaining about his lack of money. And this boy would never be able to see a single strand of colour in his life.

"I'm sorry," Fuji said after a moment.

Ryoma scoffed, worn out sneaker digging into a pavement. "Don't pity me. It's really not that bad."

"It isn't?" Fuji felt oddly terrified. Not blood-running-cold, sweat-growing-on-palms terrified, but this kind of haunting, terrible ache terrified. Wasn't life horrible? Wasn't it awful to see nothing but darkness wherever he headed? Wasn't it unnerving to always need help? Fuji's mind whirled to his childhood.

If he'd had Ryoma's condition, he probably wouldn't have survived until now.

"….It's like if you've never ate meat before…"

Fuji caught the last strand of Ryoma's words. He forced a breath out. "Pardon?"

Ryoma looked annoyed. "If you've never ate meat, it's not hard to be a vegetarian, so it's not hard. If you already ate meat, and try to be one, than it's difficult."

"I don't see how that…"

Ryoma huffed. "So I've never seen anything in my life, so it's not that bad."

Oh. So he was blind from birth. That made Fuji even more upset. Had he never seen the beautiful stretch of blue that was the sky? Or the crack of gold light that flickered between bright green leaves? Maybe it seemed so awful to him because he was a photographer at heart. Not having his eyes…

"Are you still pitying?"

Fuji took a deep breath. "No." Yes, just a little. "I like photography. It just seems…"

"Impossible?" Ryoma cut in.

"Not impossible." Fuji fiddled with the strap of his sports bag.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Fuji stared out into the distance. This wasn't how he'd expected his new fresh life in Japan to start. He had to admit, he had gotten himself into the conversation. The boy was just so cute. Even now, the way he had his brow arched, one hand casually tucked into a pocket…

But blind…

"Anyway, why are you wearing men's cologne?" Ryoma said with a smirk.

Fuji coughed, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Men's cologne," Ryoma said.

Well, this was certainly getting interesting. "Because I'm a man." Fuji stopped. "No, a boy. A teenager, actually."

He watched Ryoma's eyes widen. Then, he started to snicker. "You're a guy?" he said. "I thought you were a girl."

For a moment, Fuji forgot he was blind. He felt his eyes narrow into slits. "I don't see how you made the connection."

"Your voice," Ryoma said. "I can't see you, remember? You sounded like a girl."

"Is that so?" Fuji said sharply.

"Yes." Ryoma nodded his head.

Okay, so now he was just annoyed. Fuji willed himself to stop the irritation in the back of his mind. The thing was, this wasn't him: The Fuji back in the gang was tough, cold, mysterious, and never showed emotion past an almost eerie smile. Despite his feminine features, he was known for his strength. It felt strange to be having a casual conversation.

He wasn't used to it. His smile had already slipped off into a frown.

"Oh. There's baka oyaji."

Fuji lifted his eyes to see a tan man dressed in monk clothes sauntering toward them. He had a cigarette lingering in his mouth, and stubble on his chin. He didn't really seem fit for a father, but Fuji supposed he didn't really have any right to think that. He'd smoked cigarettes too, before. Limited, of course, but he'd done it all the same.

"Hey, gaki." The older man ruffled Ryoma's hair too hard. "Get in the car, will you? It's right in front of you." The man gave Ryoma's shoulders a little nudge.

Ryoma elbowed his father in the side, and pointed to Fuji.

Nanjiroh met Fuji's eyes, and Fuji awkwardly shifted. What was he getting himself into? Wasn't he supposed to be finding some apartment to live in for the night?

"Heh, well." Nanjiroh waggled a brow at his son. "Who's this pretty girl, eh?"

Ryoma's eyes shot up. "You look like a girl too?"

Fuji felt anger simmer underneath his sewn smile. "You're mistaken, sir," he said to Ryoma's father. "I'm a boy, not a girl."

"Eh?!" Nanjiroh leapt back. "No way! And I was going to congratulate my son here for choosing a good one!"

Ryoma looked miffed. "Che. Stop being an embarrassment."

"I'm not an embarrassment…"

Fuji watched the exchange, feeling well out of place. Maybe he should leave now. He didn't even know this Ryoma kid. But, it was an almost strange feeling, that despite that Ryoma was blind, when he spoke with him, he didn't seem blind at all. He got embarrassed, he got annoyed, he huffed, he teased, he scowled – he was a totally normal kid.

"So, what's your name?" Nanjiroh asked. "Although I'll be callin' you pretty boy."

"Oyaji…" Ryoma growled. "Go in the car."

"Oi, don't boss your beloved dad around like that, got it?"

"Yadda."

Nanjiroh grumbled. "The sass…" He lifted his brow. "So, name?"

"Fuji," Fuji said. "Fuji Syusuke."

"Alright, Fuji-san, you getting in?"

Fuji blinked, and hugged his backpack closer to his chest. "Getting in?"

Nanjiroh glanced from Fuji to Ryoma. "Don't you know each other?"

"Not really…" Fuji began.

Ryoma snorted. "He's a complete stranger."

Nanjiroh looked suspicious. "Hm. Because you just go around talking to complete strangers like you've know them before…" he leaned in onto his son, casting an arched brow in hopes of getting response. He did get one, although not very pleasant. Ryoma huffed, looked away, and practically spat, "We were just conversing. I don't even know him."

"It's true," Fuji said, but he couldn't help but _think I want to know more._

Nanjiroh reluctantly abandoned the topic. He switched his gaze to Fuji as he popped open the trunk and shuffled through. "So, Fuji-san, you heading somewhere?"

Ryoma shifted impatiently. "Can we go now?" he almost snapped. Fuji could tell he just wanted to curl up in the car and sleep or something. Now that he thought about it, they'd probably come from a long plane trip, and the last thing they'd want to do was make small talk with a stranger.

"Eh, Fuji-san?" Nanjiroh glanced up.

But he was obliged to answer, right? Fuji straightened up, and smiled. "Not particularly. I just decided to get up and move to Japan. I'm not exactly sure where I'm heading."

Nanjiroh slowly stopped tinkering with the suitcase in the trunk. He stood up full height, and gave Fuji a once over. "You're sayin' you've got no place to go?"

"Not right now," Fuji dismissed. "I'll probably find an apartment to rent."

A light flickered in Nanjiroh's eyes. "Heh, boy. You play any tennis?"

Ryoma froze. "Oyaji," he hissed.

Fuji's heart jumped at the word. It was his favourite game, in his spare time. He hadn't got to play it much, but he had natural skill. "Yes," he nodded his head slowly.

Nanjiroh snapped his fingers. "Perfect! Alright, why don't you come along with us, huh? Spend a few nights? We can play a game, and you can give my brat some company."

Ryoma's voice drew to desperation, "No. He's a stranger!"

Fuji couldn't pay attention to him right now. His heart felt like it was being shovelled out of a deep hole. This was exactly what he needed. A place to stay. He could earn some money, or at least find a job and do some research for an apartment. And he'd get to know this – his eyes flicked to Ryoma's scowling face – this blind boy better. And he'd get to play tennis –

"Okay," Fuji beamed. "If it's not a problem then-"

"Alright!" Nanjiroh hooted. "It's settled then. Hop in, Fuji Syusuke."

Ryoma groaned. "You're serious?" he said, but didn't complain any further.

And as Fuji followed them into the car, Fuji couldn't help but feel a stir of change in the air. A compelling wind that tore apart his past and welcomed his new present.

It seemed that his luck was finally turning up.


	2. Chapter 2

…

Clear

Chapter 2

…

The car ride was awkward in many ways.

Nanjiroh hummed and sang and asked questions about Fuji's life, and Fuji lied the best he could. He couldn't imagine telling a stranger that his parents were dead, or that he'd killed someone before. And that a few moments ago, holding a gun and pulling a trigger was a natural act. He didn't tell them that stealing was as easy as brushing his teeth.

He couldn't. After all, hadn't he come here to get rid of his past?

And Ryoma slept. He slept like a kitten, and Fuji couldn't peel his eyes away.

A blanket was draped over his body, and he leaned on the end of the window, his head vibrating along with the bumps on the road. Fuji saw the curve of his cheeks, soft with baby fat, and the dark lashes that held in fierce eyes. He was so…cute. Fuji really couldn't find another word for it. And he wanted to take a picture, so badly, but his camera was gone.

 _And it would also be creepy_ , Fuji reminded himself.

"Hey." Ryoma stirred. He blinked, and yawned. Without bothering for a proper greeting, he immediately asked: "Ne, Fuji-san, what colour are your eyes?"

Fuji froze, briefly. He'd again forgotten that Ryoma was blind for a moment. He acted so normal and casual with life it was hard to tell. Swallowing, Fuji answered. "Blue. They're blue."

Ryoma's fingers clenched the blanket. "What's blue look like?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and Fuji's stomach turned uncomfortably. That was right. Ryoma had never seen any colour. How was he supposed to describe…

"Deep," Fuji said. He licked his lips. "Blue looks deep. Dark blue. Light blue looks…"

He didn't know.

Ryoma just stared at his feet, closing his eyes. "Are yours dark or light?"

"Light," Fuji said, and he felt this sensation in his stomach. He'd been able to half-heartedly describe dark blue, but what did light blue look like? It just looked light. It was too hard to describe. And besides, Ryoma wouldn't be able to see it anyway. It was impossible.

"What about your hair?"

Fuji's neck felt prickly and cold. "Light brown."

Ryoma looked up. "Skin?"

"Pale."

He seemed satisfied with the answers, although Fuji couldn't possibly fathom why. "Hey, oyaji, how long until we get there?"

"A couple of hours."

Ryoma made a noise. "I'm hungry, though."

Nanjiroh chuckled. "Aw, poor brat. He's hungry. Hear that, Fuji-san? The baby might starve."

"Baka," Ryoma called to the front.

"Perhaps we should stop, then?" Fuji suggested.

"No, no." Nanjiroh waved his hand. "He can wait it out. Besides, he says he's hungry every hour or so."

"No, you do that," Ryoma said, but he slumped down in resignation. Fuji watched him glare darkly in the vague direction of his father, and couldn't help but feel another urge of _cute_ bubble up in him. Oh, dear, Fuji pressed his hand against his forehead, and exhaled. The first thing he'd done when he started his new, mafia-free life was get attracted to a kid.

A boy kid, at that.

No. A blind boy kid.

There was obviously someone up there who had something against him.

….

"Traffic," Nanjiroh slouched down into the seat, shoulders sagging. "Suppose we'll just have to wait it out, eh?"

"Traffic," Ryoma grilled. "I'm hungry, remember?"

Nanjiroh rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, yeah. Don't be a brat. We'll stop somewhere after we get out."

Ryoma grumbled that he wasn't a brat before crossing his arms and glaring out the window, as if he could just somehow see the cars, he could make them magically burn to dust. Fuji watched him, and he couldn't help, for the millionth time, wonder how he felt. How did it feel to hear the sounds and scents around him, but to not ever be able to see them?

What would it be like… – Fuji paused, and his fingers curled around the strap of his sports bag. What would it be like to fall in love with someone and never be able to see their face?

He glanced at Ryoma, who was staring fearlessly out into the sea of cars.

"Hey, Ryoma," Fuji said softly.

Ryoma craned his neck. "Yeah?"

"Do you have a cell phone?"

He blinked. "Do you?" he challenged, dodging the question.

No, but I did steal one once. Not that you would need to know. Fuji cleared his throat, and smiled. "No. Do you?"

"Why?"

He was clearly very direct. Fuji shifted. "Just wondering."

"Hmmm."

Fuji took a deep breath, and blew a long strand of hair out of his face. He felt uncomfortably hot under his shirt. Who knew a kid had the capability to make him feel so…strange. Fuji wiped his forehead, and sank back into the seat. No – not strange. More like…uneasy. Maybe it was because he was blind. Or maybe because he was the first normal person he'd talked to.

"So, are you any good?"

"Good?" Fuji said slowly.

"Tennis," Ryoma said. "You any good?"

Oh. Tennis.

"I'm…alright," Fuji said. "…"

"Heh." Ryoma settled back around. "For a girl?"

Fuji's smile twisted. "Excuse me?"

"For a girl." Ryoma closed his eyes, curling back under the blankets.

 _Well, if that's how it's going to be_. Fuji's lips clipped, and in a spit of fire, he snapped, "Are you any good? For a blind person?"

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Fuji's heart squeezed. He felt the burn of apology heavy on his tongue. "Ryoma – "

Ryoma held his hand up, smirked, and stared deftly into space. "You'll see, Fuji-san."

"I'll see?"

"How good I am," Ryoma said. This time, he turned, and stared pinpoint at Fuji's eyes. "For a blind person, of course."

The words felt like they should have been bitter, but they only left a cocky air in the car. Fuji heard Nanjiroh chuckling under his breath from the front seat. "Man, my kid's being a pain in the ass, isn't he?" he patted the empty passenger seat. "Come sit up here, Fuji-san – get some fresh air. How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm fine," Fuji said. He added, quickly, "I'm fifteen."

Ryoma's eyes flickered. Nanjiroh choked.

"Fourteen?" Nanjiroh demanded. "You look at least seventeen!"

"Fifteen," Fuji said, again. He got that a lot. Not because he looked older. He looked just like his age. But his maturity levels were beyond that of a ninth grader, and he gave off this quiet, wise aura that made everyone automatically think he was a little older than he was. He smiled at Ryoma, who looked shocked.

"How about you?" he asked.

Ryoma pursed his lips. "Guess."

Fuji blinked. "Okay…how about…" his eyes trailed over the boy. "Ten? A little older?"

Ryoma growled. "Thirteen. Geez."

Fuji shrugged, innocently. "I based it on what I saw."

"Yeah?" Ryoma said, sharply.

"Yes." Fuji's tone didn't waver. "Your face is young, you're short, and you act like a ten-year old."

Ryoma's eyes flashed. "Fuck you."

"Well." Fuji lifted a shoulder, and replied airily, "Of course, that's just an opinion of a girl.'

Ryoma's brow twitched, but he didn't comment further. Fuji hoped he realized that jab had only been in return for the girl comments he'd been getting. He peeked over at the car mirror, and tilted his head. He wasn't girlish. Not really. His hair was kind of shaggy and long, and his face was feminine, but anyone could clearly tell that –

Ryoma placed a hand on Fuji's chest. "You're very flat for a girl."

Fuji laughed quietly. "And toned too, right?"

Ryoma awkwardly kept his hand there. "Yeah. Toned." He heard the boy take a breath. "Do you work out?"

 _Well, I wouldn't call it working out_ , Fuji thought to himself. _More like beating each other up._

"Yes," Fuji said cheerfully.

"At the gym?"

 _No, with criminals._

"Yes, the gym," Fuji nodded. To take the topic off of him, he slanted his eyes. "You done feeling my chest?"

Ryoma's cheeks turned pink, and he turned back around, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "I was just checking." he huffed. "To make sure you weren't a girl."

"Why?" Fuji said. "Would it be a problem if I were a girl?"

Ryoma was quiet for a second. He fidgeted. "Maybe."

Fuji's brow creased. "Why?"

Silence.

"Why?" Fuji pressed.

There was a moment of hesitance, before Ryoma whispered fervently, "I'm gay, Fuji-san."

Fuji nearly choked on air. He felt like a bucket of cold water had been promptly dumped over his head. Ryoma was gay? Okay. Okay, that was fine. Fuji felt his heart leap. He was too, so he could relate. But how did that matter if Fuji was a girl or not? Unless Ryoma was planning on pursuing him, gender shouldn't have-

"Do you think I'm attractive?" Fuji blurted.

Ryoma looked at him like he was stupid. "I can't see you, remember?"

"Then why does it…matter?"

"Because maybe I like you." Ryoma smirked. He added, almost sinisterly, "Fuji-san."

 _What?_ Fuji felt like he was floating underwater. How had fighting about tennis capabilities come to attraction? And all of a sudden…he couldn't be serious. They'd barely known each other for more than a few hours.

Ryoma laughed. "Relax." He stared ahead. "I don't like you."

Fuji's shoulders relaxed.

"I just like your chest."

Fuji jerked his head up. "Ryoma – "

"What?" Ryoma taunted. "Is it a crime to like it?"

Fuji tensed, and shook his head, before settling back into his seat. Was it just him, or did being blind make people ten times more direct and blunt? He peered at Ryoma from the corner of his eyes. It wasn't just that he was blunt – there was something else in his eyes. A certain kind of power. Ryoma was…fearless.

"You're…" Fuji's tongue felt thick in his mouth. "What do you like to do?"

Ryoma didn't blink. "Play tennis."

 _How do you play tennis when you're blind?_ That's what Fuji wanted to say. Instead, he said: "Other than tennis."

Ryoma furrowed his brow, as if the question was much too difficult to respond to. After a moment, he shrugged, and said: "I like to sleep."

Fuji gave him a look. "Anything else?"

Ryoma shrugged again, and slunk deep into the seat. "I play video games. With the audio."

It was weird. In one way, Ryoma was just an ordinary boy. Very ordinary. He liked to sleep, play a sport, and game. He dressed in shirts and shorts, baggy over his lithe figure. There wasn't really anything interesting about him. And then, in another way – he was anything but ordinary. Fierce eyes, unwavering confidence…blindness in both eyes.

"What about you?" Ryoma sat up a little straighter.

"Me?" Fuji's mouth instantly turned to bread crust. "Oh…I don't really have any hobbies…"

"Then what do you do?" Ryoma pressed.

Steal and kill to survive. Smoke. Try a few different drugs. Fuji took a deep breath, and locked his eyes back on the window. He didn't need to tell Ryoma any of these things. He was beyond that. It wasn't even a part of him anymore. This opportunity meant he could make a plate of things he liked with nothing holding him back…

"As I said, I like photography," Fuji said. "And I like to…travel."

"Travel?" Ryoma asked. "Where have you been so far?"

Fuji coughed. "Um. I'm just starting out."

Ryoma leaned forward with a spark in his eye. "So you've only been to Japan?"

"As I said." Fuji tried not to sound sharp. "I'm just starting out."

The only response he got was Ryoma snickering. "Heh. Japan isn't that fascinating. I suggest you go somewhere else."

"How would you know?" Fuji asked. "You can't even see any of it."

Again, the cruel words came on impulse. Back in America, they talked around each other without a care about the others feelings. Some of the stuff they said were hard and harsh – but he knew he couldn't use that kind of careless language with the people in Japan. And Ryoma – his eyes had flickered with hurt the moment they'd been said.

Fuji bit his lip. "I didn't mean…"

Ryoma gave him a hard look. "Whatever."

The car hummed as it sped up through the high way. Fuji felt a heavy weight in his chest, but couldn't bring himself to apologize. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nanjiroh's gaze flicker back to them, and his stomach got queasier. He'd almost forgotten Ryoma's father was in the car. For that kind of remark…shouldn't he be kicked out into the middle of the road by now?

But Nanjiroh didn't seem fazed. He sang off-key to a song on the radio.

"Ryoma," Fuji tried again. "If I hurt your feelings…"

Ryoma blinked, and straightened up. "No. You didn't."

"Are you sure?"

Ryoma gritted his teeth. "Yes. I'm sure."

Somehow, Fuji doubted it, but he didn't press further.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Nanjiroh rounded out a few more questions from Fuji, in which Fuji responded as vaguely as he could, while Ryoma sulked by the window. It was nearly evening, the sun dim and bright under the rolling hills, when they arrived at the Echizen residence. It was a friendly shrine, with a strewn front lawn and porch swing.

It was very…ordinary.

But Fuji craved ordinary.

"Wow," Fuji said, as he slid out of the car. He felt his muscles groan in relief.

Nanjiroh laughed. "It's really plain, isn't it?"

"There's a tennis court in our backyard." Ryoma stretched and yawned. The blanket slipped to the ground, and he fumbled to pick it up. Fuji watched his hands touch the pavement, then a rock, before it finally grabbed the soft material. He swallowed, and looked away. It was so hard to see such a confident kid have to be blind.

He could have so much potential if he…

Fuji exhaled, and forced a smile. "A tennis court? That's convenient."

Ryoma just stared at him, the blanket limp in his fingers. It was like he could tell what Fuji was thinking.

Fuji's eyes slid to the ground, and for a moment, anxiety crawled up his bare forearms. But a moment later, he felt a flame glow in his chest. He was still strong and invincible. Just because he was no longer a part of…his old life, didn't mean his personality had to change. With that boosting him up, Fuji jerked his head up, met Ryoma's unfocused eyes with his own, and smiled sharply.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Fuji said, his voice as bitter as sugarless coffee. "See something interesting?"

Ryoma flinched. "You know I can't-"

"That's what I thought," Fuji smoothly cut in, before turning on his heel, heaving his backpack onto his shoulder, and heading for the front porch of the house. He could feel Ryoma's glare burning holes into his back, but at this point, he didn't care. At first, he'd wanted to befriend Ryoma…but if they had to be enemies…

Fuji smirked, and climbed up the steps.

Well, that would only make things even more interesting, wouldn't they?


	3. Chapter 3

…

 **Clear**

Chapter 3

…

"Oyaji," Ryoma said under his breath. "Why are we letting him stay?"

Nanjiroh shushed him. "Because he seems interesting. And he plays tennis!"

"I _hate_ him…"

"Well, too bad, kid!"

Fuji smiled to himself as he heard the hushed conversation from the porch. He couldn't find himself being offended by Ryoma's _I hate him,_ and was oddly pleased by the words. He was able to stay in a nice, warm home for a few nights, and had found a backyard that accommodated one of his passions. If he was lucky, they'd let him stay until he found a job and an apartment.

Ryoma kicked off his shoes loudly, and stormed past. "I can't believe we're letting a stranger stay in our house," he muttered.

Fuji laughed as Ryoma padded up the stairwell and holed up in his bedroom. This was all quite amusing.

Nanjiroh shuffled in after him. "Sorry about that." He scratched the back of his neck, then grinned. "Like I said, he's a pain in the ass."

"Oh, don't worry," Fuji said airily. "I've dealt with people like him."

This brought out a chuckle from Nanjiroh as he plonked down a suitcase. "Heh. I like you, Fuji-san." He tipped his head to the hallway. "The bathroom's down the hall, and there's a guest bedroom next to Ryoma's room upstairs." His eyes crinkled at the edges as he patted Fuji on the back. "Go make yourself at home."

 _I definitely will,_ Fuji thought to himself. His lips curled into a smile at the prospect of living in an _actual_ house with an _actual_ family, albeit not his own.

"Oh, Echizen-san?"

Nanjiroh, in the middle of dragging bags to the kitchen, looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Fuji smirked. "Anything in particular that scares your son a rather lot?"

Nanjiroh blinked, then grinned. "There's a pet store with venomous snakes across the street. Go knock yourself out."

Fuji beamed and said he would.

This would be _all_ too much fun.

…

The guest bedroom was plain and ordinary, but it had a big nice window that gave the view of their large backyard. Fuji leaned up on the sill, cheek resting on the side of the glass pane. He could see the beautiful court beckoning him to go downstairs and play – to absorb himself into the fierce sport of tennis – but he didn't know if he'd be allowed.

Nanjiroh had been really nice to him so far, but he didn't want to push his luck.

He stared at the wide net and stack of yellow balls piled in a bucket. He _really_ itched to grab a tennis racquet and rally…

But…

"Can you help me find my cat?"

Fuji turned around to see Ryoma standing by the doorway, scowling.

"What?" Fuji asked.

"My cat." Ryoma shifted uncomfortably. "He's not in my room…and…"

 _He can't see,_ Fuji thought incredulously, _So how the hell_ _would_ _he find his cat, anyway?_ Fuji supposed he could hear him, or maybe smell him, but _still._ He wondered how Ryoma got around in life.

"If you don't want to, at least tell me," Ryoma snapped.

Fuji realized he was still waiting for a response, and cleared his throat. "Of course." His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "Do you have any idea where he could be?"

Ryoma shrugged. "Sometimes he likes to hide out in the basement."

Fuji nodded in agreement, then realized Ryoma couldn't see the nod. Quickly, he cleared his throat. "Sure, let's go."

Ryoma's mouth curved upwards into a half-smile, and Fuji heard a bare whisper of a thanks before he was padding off to the stairwell. Fuji followed him, and watched in amazement as he started down the gigantic staircase. Each step was confident and sharp, like he knew exactly where to land his foot even though he couldn't see – and Fuji _supposed_ Ryoma had gotten used to it by now, but nevertheless, it was amazing to watch.

Still, he hovered behind Ryoma, in case he fell.

"What's your cat look like?" Fuji asked.

Ryoma shrugged. "Himalayan. White stripes, black fur."

Briefly, Fuji wondered if Ryoma had actually seen the cat, then realized he'd probably got his father to tell him. The pit of his stomach started to go queasy again because he just couldn't _imagine_ living without his vision, and seeing Ryoma struggle through it made his gut burn with a sympathy he couldn't quite understand.

As he thought about this, Ryoma's foot slipped on the end of the stairwell. He yelped, but before he could fall, Fuji instinctively wrapped his arms around him for security. He could hear Ryoma's breathing, a bit harsh, against his chest. And even though balancing him took only seconds, he felt the unpredictable urge to just keep holding him.

"Thanks," Ryoma said quietly. He tried to wriggle out, but Fuji put a hand on the soft curve of his cheek. He was so _endearing._

"Fuji-san?" Ryoma had stopped squirming. "What are you doing?"

Fuji tenderly stroked his cheek. "You must feel empty knowing you'll never be able to see."

Fire flamed Ryoma's eyes. " _No._ I'm perfectly fine. Let _go._ "

Ryoma tried to pull away, but Fuji had built strength over the years, and his grip on the thin wrist stayed tight. "How does it feel?" Fuji asked, because he suddenly desperately had to know. "How does it feel to be blind? Does it upset you?" the words were coming out on impulse, and he knew Ryoma didn't like them. And yet he couldn't stop himself. "Do you wish every day that you could see?"

"Shut the fuck up." Ryoma's voice was hard as steel. "Just shut the _fuck up."_

Fuji was surprised by the language, especially since he was thirteen. But then, he'd probably riled him up real bad. "I'm sorry," Fuji said. "But I'd like to know how you feel."

Ryoma was shaking, that's how angry he was in Fuji's hold. "Since when do you have the right to know how I feel?"

Fuji stared at him. "Please?" he tried.

A look passed over Ryoma's eyes, hard and unforgiving. "I said _no._ Let go."

Maybe if Fuji knew when to quit, he would have let go. Maybe if Fuji wasn't so blindly unaware (and at the same time, so distinctly aware) of what he was doing, he would have let go. Maybe if Fuji wasn't so _curious_ about how Ryoma felt, he would have let go. But because he _was_ all those things, he just leaned forward, and said:

"Don't you want to see your cat? Or your father's face?"

He knew he was being kind of cruel, but if he could just get Ryoma going…

"I hate you," Ryoma hissed, in a thin voice. "You have no right – "

"I think being honest is a good thing," Fuji said, but the moment he said them, he felt his stomach suddenly twist up. He hadn't been honest at all, so far. He'd pretended he was into travelling, and photography, when really, up until now, his life had been chaos. He'd stole and he'd fought and he'd been poor and homeless…

What if Ryoma had been asking him about that? Telling him he had no option but to comply? What if it was Ryoma who was stronger, holding him by the wrist and demanding he explain how he felt to be a part of all of that?

As if Ryoma's wrist had lit on fire, Fuji ripped his hand away.

"I'm sorry," he spoke rapidly. "I don't know what overcame me."

Ryoma just stared at him, eyes wide and wavering. He looked like he was debating whether to sock Fuji in the gut or punch him in the eye. After a moment, though, he did neither, and only turned away to walk down the last steps of the stairwell. Fuji watched him go with guilt lying heavy on his mind.

"Oi, Seishounen, anything in particular you want for dinner?" Nanjiroh popped his head in through the kitchen.

In response, Ryoma only stormed past him to the basement.

Nanjiroh arched a brow, and his eyes shot over to Fuji, who flinched noticeably.

"What'd you tell tim?"

Fuji shifted uncomfortably. "Nothing, really."

For a moment, Nanjiroh just stared at him, eyes narrow and gold and so much like Ryoma's. Then, in a voice that was more serious than Fuji could ever imagine, he said: "Look, Fuji-san. I like you and all, and I may not seem like the best parent in the world, but if you hurt that boy in any way, you're getting thrown out of here." His eyes were focused with the promise that he would follow through on the actions. "Are we clear, here?"

"Yes." Fuji swallowed, and felt the guilt wrench notches higher. "Yes, we're clear."

….

Fuji didn't know whether or not Ryoma still wanted help finding his cat (although he greatly presumed he didn't) but he was heading down to the basement anyway. As he ventured down the dark, creaky staircase, he couldn't help but shiver at the thought of Ryoma falling down the basement stairs, collapsing on the cold, grey-painted floor, and never opening his eyes again.

It certainly looked like the kind of basement where creepy things happened.

"Hey, Karu." He heard Ryoma's voice, softer than he'd ever heard before. Fuji froze, and poked his head through the end of the stairwell. There was a dim, bare light in the basement, and it shed over Ryoma's figure as he bent over a curled cat and stroked the fur. His eyes were soft, and shimmering with warmth – and Fuji couldn't help the sharp tug in his gut.

That kind of warm look, that seemed to be reserved for Ryoma's cat – could it ever possibly be reserved for him?

Fuji thought back to the previous conversation, where's Ryoma eyes had been so cold and harsh and hurt. Probably not. Probably _never_ after the way he'd pressured him for answers. But maybe he could smooth things over?

He was usually pretty good at that.

"Found your cat." Fuji pointed out the obvious.

Ryoma didn't flinch. "Clearly," he said.

"He's…big," Fuji said, for a lack of better words.

Ryoma glared at him. "He's normal," he snapped, standing up and holding his cat close to his chest. Chin in the air, he stalked off past Fuji and headed up his stairs. There wasn't a hint of subtly in what he wanted to say: don't speak to me, don't go near me, don't touch me. But Fuji couldn't help but feel nervous about him going up the dark, flimsy basement stairs all by himself.

Padding up behind him, he said, "So, Ryoma, tell me about yourself."

"Is this a job interview?" Ryoma huffed. "If anything, I should be asking you."

"You already know." Fuji put on a prim smile as he closed the basement door shut behind them. Light flooded his eyes. "I enjoy travelling, photography, and play tennis in my free-time."

The chin jutted farther up, if that was possible. "Okay. But what about before that. Like when you were a kid."

Right in the sore spot, Fuji thought grimly. But Ryoma had no clue about what he did, or what he was a part of, so he could play this safe. "It's not exactly a great childhood," he admitted. At least that part was the truth. "My parents weren't really…." They were dead. "…around much. And I wasn't much into socializing." Unless swearing and then kneeing people in the gut counted as getting to know the person.

Ryoma paused, eyes flickered vaguely in Fuji's direction. "Oh." He shifted. "I'm not much into socializing either."

 _I can tell –_ that was what Fuji didn't say. Instead, he replied cheerfully, "Really? You seem so friendly!"

Ryoma snorted. "Whatever, Fuji-san."

Fuji grinned, and followed him into the kitchen. He felt the guilt briefly disappear, because Ryoma seemed to have gotten over his anger pretty quickly. Maybe he felt sorry for Fuji after hearing his sob story, even if that wasn't even a quarter of the truth. Or maybe he was just a forgiving person. Either way, Fuji wasn't going to question his luck.

The guilt came rushing back a second later when they stepped into the dining room.

Nanjiroh was looking at him with a very tense, suspicious eye. "I made Mac and cheese."

" _Again_?" Ryoma groaned. He flopped down on the chair with a frown.

"Oi." Nanjiroh tapped Ryoma's head with the big spoon in his hand. "Be grateful!"

"No," Ryoma said glumly.

Fuji chuckled, and slid into the seat next to Ryoma. Nanjiroh was still looking at him – all threatening and daring. Hoping to clear up his past misconception, Fuji beamed at Ryoma, and said: "I'd be interested in seeing your tennis skills after we eat. Mind a game?"

At this, Nanjiroh smirked a little.

 _Good, good,_ Fuji nodded.

"Yes," Ryoma said. Fuji waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing more.

"So you'll play?" Fuji asked.

"Yes." Ryoma arched a brow – and then snickered. "I can't wait to see you lose."

"We'll see about that," Fuji said, just as crisply. He couldn't help but feel a swell of cockiness that he wished desperately to suppress. It was just that…he _knew_ how good he was. Even with people tougher, taller, and more experienced than him, Fuji had always won easily, without breaking a sweat.

Tennis was not just his hobby – it was his God-given talent, and even without practice, he was exceptionally good.

And then there was Ryoma – twelve, kind of skinny, and, well… _blind_.

Fuji hatedhimself for thinking it would be easier because Ryoma was blind, but he couldn't help himself. How could Ryoma win the game against him if he couldn't even see the ball? Of course, he could hear the ball, and feel it instinctively, but only exceptionally talented players could win in such a state…

Fuji felt Nanjiroh's eyes on him. They were light, with the kind of air that spoke: _Better not underestimate him._

Maybe there was something about Ryoma and tennis that he didn't know.

Maybe it wasn't just a game for Ryoma.

Maybe it was…

"I'm nothing without tennis," Ryoma whispered to him, quiet, and sad, and hushed.

Fuji's chest squeezed, and he wanted to say that it wasn't true. Nobody was nothing without something. _Nobody._

He was living proof, wasn't he? He'd thought he was nothing without his old life, but he'd gotten himself out of the rut. He'd proven that he was real and whole. He'd proven that he had the right to be happy.

But he couldn't tell Ryoma that. So instead, he just smiled and sat up a little straighter and hoped Ryoma could see it in his eyes.


End file.
